one punk monk[ey] goes off the beaten track:
no map. no structure. no accountability.
just grit & glitz.

Wednesday, April 21, 2010

midnight juggernauts

cat and i have been hard at work in the studio all night. the clock strikes twelve and he tells me it's time for a break to stretch our legs. we should go for a walk. i grab my dysfunctional phone and follow.

it's dark and still outside. the signs of the day-breed loom down upon us, but we are not afraid. we don't see any conjoined giants anywhere.

cat checks to see if he can sense their tracks. he smells an odour he finds strangely erotic yet disturbing at the same time and pulls a strange face. sadly because my phone camera has poor low light performance [duh] you just have to imagine. one thing is clear, obviously the sign people should wash.

we move on forward. perhaps a little too fast and have a lost highway moment. we should slow down. we're on foot after all. cat's not even wearing shoes.

the obvious solution is to have a wash and consider our options. if tabloid hungry monsters lurk further than the naked eye can see, at least we know they stink. we have a better chance of not being detected if we neutralise our scent. we will spot them first.

cat transports himself mid-wash to the side of the road and continues unperturbed as if nothing strange has happened. "i had no idea you have magical powers" i say. he coughs up some fur patiently and gestures with his paw to the adjacent anomaly.

a tree spurts forth from a rubbish bin. it too acts like nothing is out of the ordinary and quietly grows out into the bleeding night. "who are you and who do you work for?" i ask cat.

"you want the truth... you can't handle the truth" he says, turning his back on me and refusing to discuss the topic any further. together we sit in silence in the middle of the road as the chortling bats in the trees above coax us back into action. i sulk quietly. "you should really floss", i say childishly. "you have fur stuck between your teeth" [yes, that's all i've got].

embarrassed i wander off on my own for a bit and pretend to make shapes in the shadows like figures in the clouds. but all i can see are dancing geometric patterns of light and something that reminds me of kate's film "the sleeper". perhaps this is another sign and it's time to go home to bed?

cat senses my confusion and stares at the wall with me. side by side we focus our energy on it until the shadows and light cease their waltz. the brick facade gradually takes on new monochromatic meaning. there are visible hieroglyphs whose ink strains forth from the mortar. they beckon us.

we are surrounded...

the message is clear. the world is our playground. we like this. but is everything in it our toys or are we? cat and i consider this ontological dilemma for a bit before conceding it doesn't really matter. we have no god complex. there is however the perplexing issue of the elusive twins to consider.

cat suddenly speeds off into the night. suspicious, i look down. he's stolen my shoes! i chase after him.

...and arrive at a dead end. an imposing tower lined with windows which blare cruel reality shifting light framed by rotting curtains stands tall on the asphalt. it mocks us with its doorless wall.

pairs of deeply ingrained gouges in the brickwork evidence the method the inhabitants enter and leave. the stench is incredible. my stomach heaves as i convulse and double up into the gutter.

i look around for cat.

he's on the other side of the road gathering energy to maintain our magic bubble and to stay black and white. the light almost got him. my running shoes are nowhere in sight. he apologises that it was a necessary ploy to disguise our tracks & and buy our safe passage.

he assures me that my trainers have gone to a better place. in order to appease the toy gods they were sacrificed to the fetid demons. the night caresses us with renewed promise. but it's time to return to the corner shop to do some work. footloose and fancy free we walk out into the seductive nothingness.

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